OMG! I'm blogging!

Explaining my absence from blogging will take too long. Let's just say I got side tracked volunteering my time and I'm technically challenged.
Now that being said, here is why I'm a moron.
Innocently sitting around on a Sunday afternoon doing nothing and when I say doing nothing, I was doing it better than anyone in the house which is why, I suppose, I was picked by Boy #3 to 'just sit in his truck and pump the brakes'. And it was only going to take a 'half hour tops'.
The kid was doing a brake job on his truck and needed to bleed the brake line. So I was told to pump the brakes three times and hold on the third. I didn't even have to put shoes on for this.
So I hear under the truck,
"Ready when you are mom."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"One more time."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Now the other side."
"Okay."
So we did it again. The thing is that I wasn't told and had no idea that I was pumping air out of the brake line. When told to hold at 3 even though I felt the peddle give a little I held it in place. This is where problems started and tempers flared. The husband was involved now strictly for observation.
After a test drive Boy #3 returned and we had to do the 1, 2, 3 hold again. Which still didn't work because I was clueless. I had absolutely no idea I was inadvertently sabotaging my baby's effort.
After Boy #3 threw a few things around and was generally frustrated, the husband suggested to start fresh the next day since Boy #3 had the day off.
Day 2:
"Ready when you are mom."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"One more time."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Now the other side."
"Okay. But let me ask you something."
"Yes."
"If I feel the brake give on the third time do I keep pushing it down?"
"Yes." And the 'yes' had a duh sound to it.
"I didn't do that yesterday."
The kid, who loves his mother with all his heart, looked at me sideways, rubbed his grungy hands over his face and said,
"That may have been the problem. Are you pushing the peddle down all the now?"
"Yes."
"Good."
The brakes were done in a half hour tops. Test drive successful. The husband filled in on the problem, me, and I will be teased about this starting around 6 pm this evening until the end of time.

This brake thing isn't over yet.

The wheels are turning quickly in my head almost so that I can't keep up with myself. But who to blame?
Out this afternoon shopping for hell month - May. Birthdays, Mother's Day, Anniversaries, the family has put a ban on any marriages or new babies in the month of May, they just won't be recognized. There's too much going on in May and frankly I don't want my gifts jeopardized because somebody can't afford to get me a present.
My last stop today I parked on a slight inclination. I thought to myself thinking of my 5 speed,
"Should I put my emergency brake on? It's been acting weird and no one has told me if it's okay to use. It's barely a hill, should be fine."
I didn't take a long time in the store but I didn't hurry either. When I got to my car I said to myself,
"Nice parking job Sue, the ass of your car is sticking out at least a foot more than the other cars."
I put my packages in the back seat, slammed the door and felt a dizzy sort of vertigo thing going on like the car's moving but it really couldn't be, could it? No. Don't be silly. I walked around the back of the car, it looked like it was sticking out more than it was before. I got to the drivers side door and I witnessed my car move backward.
"Oh snap! My car is moving backward. I'm not having a stroke."
I jumped in my car and pressed down on the brake and clutch. Took a deep breath and tried to decide who would take the blame for my mishap/mistake.

How are the brakes?

Not so long ago in the recent past I over heard Boy #3 and the husband talking about the brakes on my car and how they needed replaced. Huh. I was not aware of a problem and I spoke up about it.
"New brakes? Why?"
"Don't you hear that noise when you drive it mom?"
"Noise? What noise?"
"The grinding noise."
"I guess I have my radio turned up a little too loud because I don't know what you're talking about."
"Jesus." Said the husband.
"We haven't had that car long enough for it to need new brakes, have we?"
"It's a 2009."
"Really? We've had it that long? That's how many years?"
"Several."
Apparently after several years a car needs a brake job and while they were at it Boy #2 brought his truck over and did his brakes too.

 

They did my car first then sat it in the driveway to go on to Boy #2's truck. I needed to go on my weekly rendezvous with the WalMart people so I hopped in my car and left. They watched me pull out of the driveway with interest.

I was unwittingly taking my car and it's new brake job on a test drive. When I returned I was asked,

"How are the brakes?"

"Uhhh good I guess. You guys fixed them right?"

"We were pretty sure."

All I Want for Christmas is a Brake Job

Two years ago I received a diamond tennis bracelet from the husband for Christmas. You can read the tear-jerking post on it here. That was probably one of the best presents ever, maybe number 2, right after the Barbie Country Camper, the Swingingest Camper on wheels. Barbie would always swing by my brother's room to pick up GI Joe and they would drive cross county or to my backyard, for a picnic or to get married.
This year all thoughts of jewelry or vintage Barbie Campers has been put on hold, taken off the table, scratched off the list, because I'm getting a brake job and a thermostat. It's what every girl wants. Sure, I want to be able to stop my car at will and be relatively warm after scraping the ice off my windshield, but damn the timing. Brake jobs and thermostats don't go with my new boots.